Miss Edith's Game
by Naughty Slayer
Summary: Tickle fetish fic. Rated R for mild smut and language. Set after Lover's Walk, but before season 4. Perhaps a bit of revenge on Dru's part; Spike is tricked into an... interesting position. I need reviews, tell me if I should continue!
1. Dru Gets Her Way

**Title:** Miss Edith's Game  
**Author:** Naughty Slayer  
**Rating:** I've changed it from NC-17 to R, but if you think it should be rated more strictly, let me know.  
**Summary:** Tickle fetish fic, written on a dare. Dru gets Spike in a rather... interesting position. Set somewhere after Lover's Walk, but before Spike's return in season 4. Tickling and sex... Not for li'l bits!  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the fic you see before you. If you're planning on suing me, too frickin' bad, 'cause I ain't making money off of this. Nyah! Characters are property of my beloved Joss Whedon. -petpet-  
**Chapters:** At least one to follow. If I get enough requests, I might write more.  
**Feedback:** LOTS! This is my first posted lemon, so I need tons of reviews.  
  
Spike squirmed and writhed wildly, trying not to look too panicked. It wouldn't do for her to see him lose composure -- but he still couldn't believe that he'd been tricked into this position. _Again._  
"Pet, please," he complained stiffly. "Let me up. We'll go out and I'll find you a nice midnight snack. A toddler, maybe, from uptown so he's nice and juicy." Drusilla's eyes were gleaming; Spike knew the weak offer wouldn't sway her, but it was worth a shot. Once his Dru got her mind set on something, she didn't stop 'til she got it.  
"Don't want a toddler," she sang in a lilting voice. "I'm full."  
"Dru," he repeated urgently, and she promptly covered his mouth with three neatly manicured scarlet nails.  
"Naughty, naughty Spike," she giggled gleefully, making sure once again that the ropes around his wrists would hold tight. "You've been bad. Mummy has to punish you."  
"What have I done, love?" he protested. He'd tried for the past five minutes to twist out of his bonds, but all Spike succeeded in was making some lovely red rope burns on the skin of his wrists. Dru giggled again, obviously quite proud of herself.  
"You've been scowly and growly for far too long," she said in a sing-song voice as she slowly drew a red polished fingernail down the center of his chest. Spike shivered involuntarily at her touch. "Makes rumbles in my head when my Spike's unhappy. So we'll make him smile, just for tonight." Drusilla turned away and rooted around in the darkness of the cellar for something. They had been forced to stay there when the dawn came, but it held a bunch of junk and an old bed which would serve to their liking. _Her_ liking, at least.  
"We?" Spike craned his neck to see, still tirelessly twisting his wrists and digging the ropes into his skin. Dru popped back up with that damned doll of hers and a smile of pure delight.  
"Miss Edith and I, silly puppy," she crooned. He eyed her warily as she carefully straightened every wrinkle in the delicate fabric of the doll's dress, smiling all the while. "We're going to play a game."  
"Pet, let's not --"  
"It's Miss Edith's _favorite _game," Dru said, and this time her sing-song voice held a note of disapproval. Spike pressed his lips firmly together. He wanted to get out of this situation, but upsetting her would get him nowhere. She'd be liable to pout something fierce and leave him there, tied to a bed half-naked like some kind of idiot until she cheered up and returned. Better to just play the game -- even if it _was _what he feared she had in mind -- and get it over with.  
"Fine, love," he muttered at last. "Let's play Miss Edith's favorite game." Drusilla giggled joyfully, hugging the porcelain doll to herself.  
"What _fun!" _she exclaimed, and promptly plopped Miss Edith right on the center of Spike's bare chest. He frowned; the bloody doll blocked his view of Dru. He couldn't see where she was or what she was doing.  
"Dru?" Spike said cautiously. He didn't like losing sight of her. The gleam in her eye was far too wicked for the reason of bondage to be sexual, and he had a pretty good idea of what she had -- His thoughts were cut off with his own yelp of surprise as he felt her long nails scrabbling softly on the ball of his foot. _Damn it, _he cursed silently, trying to force himself not to react. _Damn it damn it DAMN IT._ He knew this was what she was planning -- he had known all along, he supposed -- and now regretted not stopping it in time. He had always prided himself on appearing strong and unwavering in Dru's eyes (except, of course when they were around Angelus... _that _was an entirely different matter) and this was the one way she could make him feel helpless. Unable to defend himself, laughing and squirming like a child. He hated being tickled, and his repetitive thoughts of that nature were not helping. _DAMN. IT! _he screamed mentally.  
  
Spike bucked back against the bed as she continued to very gently tickle the sensitive skin above the arch, smiling to herself while she did so.  
"You know what I want to hear," Drusilla crooned, then giggled loudly. She was obviously very amused by the way his face was turning bright red.  
_"Dru,"_ he moaned through clenched teeth. Somehow, the fact that he couldn't see what she would do next was making things ten times worse. That bloody doll was in his way, bobbing up and down with his erratic breaths.  
"Yes?" she asked innocently, and raked five of her nails slowly down the center of his foot. Spike bucked violently, his pent-up air escaping him in a half-strangled cry of laughter. This delighted Dru to no end; she giggled again and wrapped a hand around one of his rope-bound ankles, her free fingers carefully scratching the highest part of his arch. Spike forgot about composure and twisted wildly, trying desperately to get out of her grip. He could hear his own uncontrollable laughter coming out in bursts as Dru's torment spread to both feet; he convulsed instinctively and laughed harder, unable to do anything else. His last jerk had thrown Miss Edith to the left, and she was lying askew on the bed. But to be perfectly honest, he didn't give a flying fuck about the damned doll at the moment. All Spike's attention was focused on how in the hell he was going to get her away from those feet.  
"God, Dru," he choked through his hysterics. Now Spike could see her; she looked up with that mischevious smile she got when she was proud of herself, busy with scratching her nails up and down the vulnerable flesh of his feet. The smile faded almost immediately, and she released his feet, much to Spike's relief.  
"Naughty," Drusilla said in a hushed tone of disapproval, carefully retrieving Miss Edith from the bed. "Oh, Miss Edith doesn't like this at _all. _ She wants to sit _here --" _ She emphasized the word by dropping the doll back on his chest and blocking his view once again. "-- so she can see all the fun."  
"Dru," Spike said breathlessly. "Please, let's play another game."  
"We don't _want _to play another game," she said indignantly, placing her hands on her hips. "We want to play _this _game!" She paused briefly; a slow smile spread across her lips. "Spike." Drusilla popped back into sight, and the look on her face made him stop worrying for a moment.  
"What?" He strained slightly at his bonds, eyeing her over slowly. She hadn't given him that look since she'd found out about his deal with the Slayer.  
"Spike, love," she repeated, and Spike jumped slightly as she proceeded to slowly unbutton his jeans. His cock sprang to life, straining at the fabric. "You'll get a treat if you play. A _tasty _treat." Dru's fingers slipped under the fly with great care and lightly stroked his arousal. He growled and bucked his hips upward, suddenly wildly thankful he wore no underwear.  
"Dru," he moaned quietly, then inhaled sharply as her hand left his pants.  
"You'll play?" she asked hopefully, but the twinkle in her eyes suggested she already knew the answer. Spike let out a slow breath and craned his neck upwards to see her better.  
"I'll play, pet," he said in defeat. "I'll play." Dru clapped her hands together gleefully and moved out of sight once again.  
"Spike wants to play!" she giggled, obviously delighted. Spike braced himself with a wince. He really didn't want to play Miss Edith's game, but if he was going to get some sort of pleasure that didn't involve his right hand, he'd have to. Spike caught one last glimpse of Drusilla before she disappeared beyond the frills of lace on Miss Edith's dress -- and the look of mischief on her face made him suddenly wish he'd refused.  



	2. The Game Begins

**Title:** Miss Edith's Game  
**Author:** Naughty Slayer  
**Rating:** I've changed it from NC-17 to R, but if you think it should be rated more strictly, let me know.  
**Summary:** Tickle fetish fic, written on a dare. Dru gets Spike in a rather... interesting position. Set somewhere after Lover's Walk, but before Spike's return in season 4. Tickling and sex... Not for li'l bits!  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the fic you see before you. If you're planning on suing me, too frickin' bad, 'cause I ain't making money off of this. Nyah! Characters are property of my beloved Joss Whedon. -petpet-  
**Chapters:** This is all for now, but if I get enough requests, I might write more.  
**Feedback:** LOTS! This is my first posted lemon, so I need tons of reviews.  
  
He could hear Dru singing softly to herself as she crouched down at his feet. Spike struggled to control his breathing. He couldn't stand the wait; it would be better if she just did it and got it over with. But it wasn't the first time Drusilla had done something like this, and he was fairly certain she had a technique. Spike bucked back slightly as he felt a few feather-light carresses on the sole of his right foot; he gritted his teeth together, twisted his wrists desperately, and tried to focus on the treat that would come after.  
"Unngh," he groaned, curling his toes downward to protect the sensitive skin. Dru calmly pried them back and held them there, stretching his foot taut. Spike felt the tips of her fingers slowly stroke up and down the arch; he couldn't repress a whimper. She heard it and giggled quietly, her nails coming into play now. "Dru, pet," Spike managed in a shaky voice.  
"You've already agreed to play," she responded promptly, and began drawing agonizingly slow pictures on the soft skin of his arch. "There's no getting out of it now, love." Miss Edith was quivering with Spike's barely contained laughter; whatever she was drawing down there was driving him crazy. Two nails ran suddenly down the center of his foot, catching him by surprise; he yelped loudly, then -- to his horror -- giggled. The sound made Dru squeal in delight and attack the arch with all five fingers. Spike jerked back against the bedframe, giggling uncontrollably. He was absolutely mortified to hear that noise coming out of him with no way to stop him -- but Dru was obviously having a great time.  
  
Ten minutes later, Spike was red-faced and teary-eyed when Drusilla finally stood, abandoning his feet. His giggles were slowly ebbing away, but he'd been sure he was going to lose it when she attacked his sole with her tongue, to which he had responded with a shout of _"Dru!" _and more childish laughter. Now her face loomed overhead, blurry through his tears of mirth.  
"Pet," Spike gasped breathlessly. "Please, no more --" She carefully removed Miss Edith from his chest.  
"Shh, love," she hushed, stroking the sides of his sweaty face gently. "Time for a little break." He slowly caught his breath as Drusilla ran her hands over his chest, through his hair, soothing him into relaxation. Spike finally opened his eyes and stared at her lovingly, already forgetting about what he'd endured to be with her again.  
"Dru," he mumbled, craning his neck forward. She growled softly and pressed her mouth against his; Spike felt his cock hardening as she slipped her tongue past his lips and her hand under his pants. When Drusilla pulled back slightly, her thumb stroking slowly up and down his stiff shaft, he smiled craftily at her. "Untie me, Dru," Spike whispered huskily.  
"Not yet, silly puppy," she responded with a coy smile, and promptly zipped up his pants. He snarled in disapproval, but Drusilla just giggled, replacing Miss Edith on his chest. "The game's not over."  
"Damn it, Dru," Spike finally spat. "Bugger the bloody game! This is --" Her eyes narrowed; she crossed her arms slowly. He clenched his teeth together and said nothing more.  
  
She walked back to his feet, singing again, and crouched down out of sight. Feeling rather frustrated, Spike cursed quietly and shifted in his bonds. If he didn't get some relief soon, he was going to be in a good amount of discomfort. But Dru held the cards, and it was her game. He could feel her unzip his pants fully, exposing his sudden hard-on, and pull his black jeans down to the ankles. For a brief, fleeting moment, he thought she might have changed her mind -- then he gasped loudly when he felt her fingers tickling lightly at the backs of both his knees, scratching very gently at the vulnerable skin. Spike tried to bend his legs and protect the spot, but it was no good. Drusilla giggled quietly as she began drawing agonizingly slow circles there. He arched his back with a gasp of laughter, unable to believe how fast she had broken him down again. Spike was giggling in no time as her fingers slid to the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. He arched his back again and laughed helplessly; Dru raked her nails slowly down the quivering skin, then smiled broadly, pleased at the howl she'd brought out of him.  
"Silly Spike," she crooned, straightening and moving back to his side.  
"Dru," he said breathlessly. She chuckled gleefully and gave each of his cheeks a playful pat.  
"Miss Edith wants to play more, love." Drusilla lifted the doll from his chest and hugged it with great care, staring fondly down at him.  
"C'mon, Dru," Spike pleaded weakly, then paused to catch his breath. Slowly, his lips curled into a smirk. "_C'mon, _Dru," he repeated, tone husky and alluring this time. "I've played the game. Don't I get my treat?" She considered it for a moment, chewing gently on her lower lip, and slowly smiled.  
"Say please," she prompted. Spike leaned as far forward as the ropes would allow and snapped playfully at her.  
_"Please," _he growled. Dru made a little noise of delight, then tossed Miss Edith aside and placed her hands on his bare thighs, very slowly pulling herself atop him. He strained against the bonds and bucked his hips upward. She jumped a little, then grinned down at him, shaking a finger in reprimand.  
"Naughty Spike," Drusilla crooned, then carefully pulled her dress off over her head. No undergarments for her either, and he was just as thankful for _that _as he was for his own lack of underwear. She leaned forward, careful to avoid his throbbing cock, and pressed her breasts against his chest, giving him a teasing little kiss on the lips. Spike cut through the pretenses and mashed his mouth against hers, forcing his tongue past her lips and tempting hers to retaliate. Dru giggled quietly and gave his tongue a gentle bite. "Naughty Spike," she murmured again, slipping a hand down to his raging hard-on. He hissed loudly and bucked his hips upward as she closed her palm around his throbbing manhood.  
"God, Dru," Spike moaned as she moved her hand slowly up and down, making his vision haze over with pleasure. "Oh, God --" His groan was stopped by her mouth. He plunged his tongue past her lips and feverishly attacked. Drusilla whimpered a little and stopped moving her hand, pulling it away after briefly stroking his erect penis with her fingertips. Spike whimpered his disappointment into her mouth and she drew back. Her dark hair hung in his face as she smiled coyly at him, breathing heavily.  
"Ready for a treat, my Spike?" Drusilla whispered. He nodded and darted forward, running his tongue slowly up the side of her neck. She giggled and snapped at him like a hungry dog, then very carefully lowered herself down on him. Spike growled mindlessly and bucked his hips upwards, trying to push farther into her hot wetness. Dru moaned, placed her hands on each side of his neck, and began rocking slowly back and forth. A rush of liquid swarmth shot through him; his eyes fluttered back under his lids. Pleasure took over his senses, making his vision dark around the edges. She was so hot, so tight, so --  
_"Dru!" _he shouted, his arms straining madly at the ropes as his climax approached. Drusilla pushed herself down hard, and they both gasped loudly. She was making soft little whining noises under her breath as she rocked back and forth; Spike bucked his hips upwards as hard as possible, and he heard a high pitched scream. He felt his own climax mount, then explode in an unbelievable surge of pleasure. He shifted into game face for a brief moment as the orgasm reached its peak. There was a roar, and another scream, then silence.  
  
It was his first orgasm, but not his last. When they were both satisfied, Dru shakily reached up and untied the ropes, soothingly rubbing his raw wrists with her thumbs. Spike growled softly and kissed her hair, vaguely aware of the dull ache in his arms and shoulders. The last thing he saw before drifting into a warm, pleasant sleep was Miss Edith, laying askew on the ground -- and he thought she might be smiling.  



	3. Changing The Rules

**Title:** Miss Edith's Game  
**Author:** Naughty Slayer  
**Rating:** I've changed it from NC-17 to R, but if you think it should be rated more strictly, let me know.  
**Summary:** Tickle fetish fic, written on a dare. Dru gets Spike in a rather... interesting position. Set somewhere after Lover's Walk, but before Spike's return in season 4. Tickling and sex... Not for li'l bits!  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the fic you see before you. If you're planning on suing me, too frickin' bad, 'cause I ain't making money off of this. Nyah! Characters are property of my beloved Joss Whedon. -petpet-  
**Chapters:** This is probably the last chapter. Let me know if I should write more.  
**Feedback:** LOTS! This is my first posted lemon, so I need tons of reviews.  
**Author's Note: **I thought I'd let you all know that this chapter was influenced by a juicy piece of information I picked up on the Internet: James Marsters is indeed ticklish, and mostly so on his stomach and knees. Apparently, he found this out when he was tied to a chair and the whole cast took advantage of the situation... -drooool- What I wouldn't give for a chance. Anyway, on to the story.  
  
Spike woke slowly from a pleasant sleep, his lips forming an unconscious smile. It had been far too long since he'd been with his Dru, far too --  
"Dru?" he mumbled in confusion when he'd tried to move his arms. They were immobile above his head, restrained with the same damned ropes that had held him captive before. Her giggle sounded from somewhere behind him; Spike twisted to see her, but he couldn't make his head swivel far enough. His gaze drifted above him instead -- Drusilla had bound his hands together with the length of rope, then strung it over a beam in the ceiling. He cursed her cleverness silently. She _knew _how heavily he slept after a good shag. Spike flexed his arms in an attempt to lower them, desperate to get out of this situation. He was sure he could lift whatever weighted down the end of the rope even without shifting into game face, and --  
"Ruff," Drusilla barked softly, popping up in front of him out of nowhere. She placed both her hands on his chest and flexed her fingers into cat's claws. He squirmed at the light scratching on his skin. "Bad dog." She drew her fingers slowly along the straining muscles of his arms, giggling at the pained expression on his face, and finally Spike stopped trying to pull the rope down.  
"Pet, what now?" he complained, embarrassed to hear a whine in his voice.  
"Game's not over, my love," Dru proclaimed simply with a gesture towards Miss Edith. Now _she _got to sit on the bed while Spike was suspended from the ceiling. He glared briefly at Miss Edith and felt a simple hatred for that bloody doll.  
"I'm going to break this rope, Dru." He told her this bluntly as he flexed his arms again, waiting to feel the ropes give way a little. "When I break this rope, you and I are going to shag, and then we are going to get the hell out of this place. Find us a meal and a good shot of liquor. And STOP letting that _bloody _doll decide _how and when we're going to play sex games!" _Drusilla's mouth popped open in a playful, mocking 'o'.  
"Miss Edith does not appreciate that at _all!" _she scolded, tapping his bare chest with a polished fingernail. Her disapproving frown disappeared after a moment; she giggled quietly and leaned her chin against his breastbone, staring up at him with a coy smile.  
"What?" Spike asked suspiciously.  
"Try to pull your arms down," she said in a low voice, and giggled again. He frowned a little, then slowly strained his bisceps, pulling the rope taut. He thought he felt it giving, and then the ceiling let out a loud _creeeak, _one that made him look upwards in surprise. The _beam _was giving, not the rope. Spike stopped pulling immediately.  
"What's your point, pet?" he said after a moment's thought.  
"Pull too hard, silly puppy," she crooned, sliding her hands slowly up his sides, "and the pixies in my head tell me you'll break the sky." _The ceiling will cave in, _he thought sourly. They'd survive, of course, but it would be mightily uncomfortable. _Damn it. When did she start thinking these things out so carefully?_  
"What happens if I break the sky?" Spike asked with a sigh. Drusilla giggled delightedly and nuzzled her nose against his chest.  
"You lose."  
  
She had him backed into a corner, yet again. He groaned inwardly, flexed his arms one more time, and surrendered.  
"You win, pet," he muttered. "I'll play."  
"No one's won yet," Dru corrected sternly as she straightened, lifting her chin from his chest. She stepped back to admire her work and examined him slowly, a mischievous gleam in her eye. Her gaze did a full elevator, from foot to head, and she smiled. Apparently, his naked body and the barest hint of his hard-on amused her to no end. Drusilla chewed her lower lip slowly, a smile lighting her face, and leaned forward for a moment. "Besides," she whispered into his ear, "the pixies say you would've played whether you liked it or not."  
  
She ducked out of sight, and Spike closed his eyes in disgust. He was so tired of Miss Edith's game he would've smashed that stupid doll's head if he had the chance. His back arched involuntarily as he felt her long, slender fingers slowly stroking down his sides. Spike was cursing steadily in his mind; his upper body was probably more ticklish than anywhere else, and Dru knew it. She might have been insane, but she knew exactly how to drive him absolutely insane with the lightest of touches. Her fingers slipped slowly down to the tender skin at his hips; Spike jumped uncontrollably and tried to twist away, but her hands followed suit, tickling and pinching gently at his waist. He tried to think about something else -- killing the Slayer in the subway, having a shag with Dru, seeing the witch in that fuzzy pink number with the lavender underneath -- but Drusilla's nails began scrabbling softly at his ribs, and he convulsed violently. He knew he couldn't last much longer.  
_"Dru," _Spike moaned, arching his back again. She scratched her fingers slowly over his quivering ribcage, bringing another groan out of him, and giggled quietly.  
"Puppy wants off his leash," Drusilla crooned. "Wants to bite and scratch. Naughty puppy." Her nails reached a particularly tender spot under his ribs; Spike gasped and strained to twist out of her reach.  
_"Dru..."_  
"Perhaps if the puppy begs, Mistress will let him off his leash," she prompted. Dru had taken note of his increased squirming and was tortuously drawing little circles on the sensitive skin. He moaned again. She'd made him do _this _before, too, and if there was something he hated more than being tickled it was being forced to beg.  
"Dru, please --"  
"Beg me," Drusilla sang, dragging her nails slowly from his ribs to his hips. Spike bucked back with a strangled laugh, unable to stop what the unbearable sensations were doing to him. He was breaking down, and fast.  
"Stop, Dru," he said, the words pouring out in a steady, almost unintelligible rush. "Stop, please, I'm begging you, pet, stop!" She was obviously pleased with this reaction; Dru smiled and inched her fingers towards his stomach.  
"Good. More." She began slowly scratching her nails at the edge of his taut abdomen. Spike's body tensed even more. He tried wildly to get his torso out of her reach, but it was no use, so he went on babbling as she had asked.  
"Dru, please stop tickling, please, I'm b-begging --" He twisted desperately, trying to finish before he surrendered to laughter. "-- please, stop, p-p-please stah-AH --" Spike couldn't complete the word, because Dru's fingers were scrabbling all over his stomach now, and the sensation was simply driving him insane. His pent-up laughter escaped him in an explosion of uncontrollable giggles as he squirmed and twisted madly, doing everything possible to get away from her fingers. Drusilla was beaming; he knew she would've clapped her hands, had they not been busy humiliating him.  
"Good puppy," she exclaimed over his laughter. "Later, you'll get a treat!" _Should've told me the reward came LATER, _Spike thought bitterly. _I wouldn't have begged like a child if I'd known the reward came LATER._  
  
Dru's hands scrambled all over his stomach and ribs, knowing exactly where to stroke and scratch to make him howl with laughter. Every now and then, a neatly manicured nail would slowly circle his navel and Spike would nearly jump out of his skin, making Drusilla giggle at his reaction and move back to his ribs. His torso was shimmying back and forth like he was going for first place in a hula-hoop contest, but it was almost as if she could anticipate his movements; the moment Spike thought he might be out of her reach, there she was again, pinching at his waist and bringing forth a new explosion of laughter. It was hard to even think straight anymore.  
"Tell me what you did wrong, my Spike," Dru crooned suddenly. Her hands had slowed on his sides but were still dangerously close to his trembling stomach, so he could speak through only a few giggles.  
"I don't know what I did, pet," he said shakily, and yelped as she grabbed at his waist.  
"Wrong," she said with disapproval, then waited for him to stop laughing again. "Tell me what you did wrong, my Spike." Spike looked at her in mild disbelief. This wasn't a sex game, this was punishment!  
"Dru, I --"  
"No excuses." Her voice was surprisingly stern as she goosed his ribs again. "What... did you... do wrong?"  
"I made a truce with the Slayer," he gasped, arching his back to strain out of her reach. Drusilla smiled, pleased, then rested her palms lightly on his heaving chest.  
"Good," she crooned, and rewarded him with a slow, sensuous kiss. When they parted, she looked at him expectantly. "And why was that wrong?" Spike licked his lips, trying to hide his nervousness. There were too many possible answers, and too many that were probably not the right one.  
"Because..." He hesitated, slowly getting his breath back. "Because... I could've... handled it myself?" Dru's face darkened as she shook her head.  
"No," she said quietly. Her hands went to his stomach and hovered there; she waited a long moment before launching out a full-scale attack on his abdomen, her voice rising to a shout. "Because she's THE SLAYER!" Dru yelled, suddenly furious. Spike exploded into laughter. He was twisting wildly back and forth, his arms straining at the ropes; the ceiling beam creaked dangerously, but he was in far too much agony to care. He was sure if he'd been alive he would've been dealing with serious oxygen issues.  
"Stop, Dru," Spike managed, and whatever he said next dissolved into a shriek as a finger slid into his navel and drew a slow circle.  
"The Slayer, Spike," Drusilla said in disgust, still scratching at his ribs with her free hand. "That naughty little girl is the _Slayer, _and we don't make truces with Slayers. We _kill _Slayers, we cut off their heads and make dolls from their hair, we slit their throats and mix martinis with their blood. When did you forget this, Spike?" Spike was a little too preoccupied to answer; the finger in his navel was slowly driving him insane. "When?" Dru demanded, and attacked his stomach again.  
"I don't know!" he yiped, barely able to hold off the new torrent of laughter. She slowed her attack and eyed him carefully, then picked up the pace again.  
"Tell me you're sorry," Drusilla prompted, her fingers scrabbling over his quivering ribs. Spike was choked with giggles once again, unable to answer; she gave him a moment, then smiled and lowered her head. Through his tear-blurred eyes, he could see her pressing her face against his stomach. The moment he felt the moist warmth of her tongue in his navel, he forced himself to say what she wanted to hear.  
"I'm _sorry!" _he yelped. "I was wr-WRONG, Dru, and I'm sorry!" Drusilla beamed and straightened, clapping her hands in delight.  
"Right!" she giggled joyfully. "You win!"  
  
Spike was finally getting back his breath when he noticed that Dru was putting on his coat.  
"Where are you going?" he said breathlessly.  
"Out," she chirped, hugging the worn black leather to her body. "I'm hungry."  
"Pet, aren't you going to untie me?" Spike strained his muscles slowly and listened to the creak of the ceiling beam. Drusilla shook her head with a giggle.  
"Puppy hasn't learned his lesson," she said cheerfully, and wiggled her fingers in a wave. "I'll be back at dawn!" And with that, she sauntered out, singing some sort of imaginary song as she slipped out into the night. Spike stared after her in disbelief.  
"Bloody hell," he muttered to himself. "Should've stayed in Sunnydale." 


End file.
